


Something To Hold

by SincerelyYours



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Chubby Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Kaer Morhen, Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, One Big Happy Family, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Boys, Swordfighting, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Young Witchers (The Witcher), kinda horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SincerelyYours/pseuds/SincerelyYours
Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier home and falls head over heals for him. Jaskier puts on a little extra winter weight and is a little insecure. Geralt won't let that stand.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	Something To Hold

**Author's Note:**

> this is just my self indulgent coping mechanism :)

Jaskier knew that the trip would be worth it. So worth it. He’ll get to spend the winter with his best friend in his home of legend. He’ll be able to see Geralt be relaxed and happy surrounded by family. It would be so worth it… but the trip there was horrendous. Horrible. Terrible. _Dreadful_ . It was long, muddy, and all uphill in the windy, autumn cold. Now, Jaskier _could_ hike in these conditions, no problem, he just didn’t _want_ to. And he was getting tired. Geralt was walking in front of him, leading Roach, looking positively divine. It was rather distracting and just made Jaskier want to stop the treacherous hike so he may ogle his best friend in comfort. His leather clad thighs, made of pure muscle. Arms that bulge with more muscle than Jaskier knew a person could have. It was almost too much for the man.

“How much longer? Geralt, I don’t know if I will be able to make it. You may have to carry me! You see, my feet are numb. They could very well fall off before the day’s out,” Jaskier jogged forward to drape himself against Geralt who only slowed his pace slightly to accommodate the bard's dramatics.

They had been friends for about ten years. Geralt had taken a long time to accept Jaskier into his life. The djinn was what made Geralt finally realize that he cared for Jaskier. Maybe even a little too much (how much do best friends care about each other? Geralt wasn’t sure. He was convinced that he was bordering on the “too much” side of the spectrum, maybe to make up for sitting on the “not enough” side for so many years… Or maybe a different reason.) That was all delightful for Jaskier because that meant Geralt was a lot more fun to hang around with, lots of horsing around and jokes (and sometimes, if Jaskier was lucky, hugging). Baby steps, it hadn’t yet been a year.

“We will be there in a few hours. We can take a break after we finish this stretch.” Geralt turned and scooped Jaskier in his arms, holding him up across his chest and over his shoulder.

Jaskier liked it. Being Geralt's companion, his _friend_ (how he loved that word. Friend friend friend friend), not being carried like a sack of potatoes. Watching him let loose in ways Jaskier had never been privy to before. The only issue is that he likes it a little too much but Jaskier knows there is no mistake greater than falling in love with one's best friend.

That didn’t stop his heart from aching for Geralt and is cock from craving him.

“GERALT!” Jaskier yelped, wiggling his legs against Geralt's arm that was supporting him from under his bum, his own arms shooting out to wrap around Geralt’s waist. “What are you doing? Don't drop me!”

Geralt chuckled and patted Jaskier’s thigh, “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“Yes, but, Geralt! I meant for it to be pleasant. Carrying me off like a proper knight.” Jaskier waved his arms around before dropping them, letting them dangle by Geralt's ass. Jaskier debated smacking it (he knew he shouldn’t but it was right there and so perfectly firm) but before he could finish his thought, Geralt gently threw him up above his head and let him fall a little before catching him. He laughed at Jaskier’s squawk before fixing him in his arms so Jaskier was now settled in a cradle of Geralt's strong arms, one around his back and one under his legs.

Jaskier slipped his arms around Geralt's neck, “My glorious chevalier! Thank you.”

“Hm,” Geralt kept his face forward. That was fine by Jaskier, he was flustered enough for the excuse of hanging upside down and being thrown in the air was no longer viable.

They walked for a few more hours, pretending that nothing happened, until they found a relatively sheltered space to camp for the night. Jaskier set up the bed rolls while Geralt set up a small wood pile for a fire, shooting a igni to ignite the wood. Jaskier would never get enough of seeing Geralt work those strong hands into a sign and spark magic with his words. It made him unbelievably horny.

They set out the next day when the sun began to rise. Geralt said they could only have one break for lunch if they wanted to make it Kaer Morhen by that night. Jaskier thought Geralt meant that they would arrive around sunset but the sun went down and they kept walking. And walking… And walking. Usually Jaskier would be fine traveling later into the night but they had been hiking up the mountain for days, and his feet ached (blisters are not fun), even after being carried for the last few hours of yesterday's climb.

“Geralt, are you sure we can’t stop for the night? The sun has gone down and I am positively drained. I don’t think I can walk much longer, I’m sorry, dearest friend. I know you would have already been there but I really need a break,” Jaskier was panting and a little sweaty even in the cold. He knew he wasn’t the fittest man, he travelled with perhaps the fittest man on the continent, but Jaskier had developed some decent muscles in his legs from walking everywhere on his exploits with Geralt. He was not, however, used to spending days hiking up a mountain that was designed for witchers, in the cold. It was embarrassing and he knew Geralt could have made it to Kaer Morhen days earlier without him. Maybe he was putting on more weight than he thought… or he was getting old! Oh ho ho no! No, that would not do. 

“Hm.” Geralt stopped and looked at him. Jaskier’s eyes were bleary and his feet were dragging. Geralt knew he was pushing Jaskier but he didn’t want to make him sleep up in this part of the mountains. The moon had just started to make its way into the sky and Geralt knew there was just over an hour left on their walk. He looked over at Roach who was loaded full of supplies and just as tired as the rest on them. “We’ll take a short break. There’s only about an hour left and then you can get into a real bed.”

Jaskier sighed and sat against a large rock, “That sounds wonderful, thank you, truly.” 

Geralt was ready to go a few minutes later but when he looked over to where Jaskier was resting he was snoring, soft little snores escaping his parted lips. The soft light from the stars makes his soft hair shine a dull auburn, his long eyelashes flutter against his pink cheeks like feathers. He looked like an angel, wrapped in Geralt’s cloak. Grumbling at the sky and ignoring the judgmental whinny from Roach, Geralt gently lifted the bard into his arms much like the day before, making sure to cradle him close and tuck Jaskier’s head under his chin.

“Don’t judge me,” Roach only bumped against his shoulder in response. Geralt was able to make it to the keep before long, leading Roach to the stables. He set Jaskier down and quickly unloaded Roach. He gave her a few pets and promised he would come back for a more thorough brush down tomorrow. Loading all the sacks on his back, one hand holding them over his shoulder, he gently stroked Jaskier’s cheek to wake him.

“Hey, Jask. Wake up for just a minute.”

“Hhhm? Ger, wa-?” Jaskier blinked up at him, wiping a little trail of drool that found its way down his chin.

“Sh, you can go back to sleep, we’re here. I just need you to put your hands around my neck and hold on so I can get you to bed okay?” Geralt slid his arm under Jaskier’s bum, lifting him against his chest as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck and legs around his hips, like a toddler. Geralt hadn’t even made it out of the stables before he heard Jaskier’s soft snores in his ear, warm puffs of breath against his bare neck tickling Geralt’s skin.

Geralt wasn’t sure he really knew what love felt like. He thought he was in love with Renfri, and perhaps he was. Just a different kind of love, not true love, something just as real but not _true_ love. She was the first person who understood him, in her own way… And then there was Yennefer, just earlier that year. But was that really love? He loved her body, sure. She’s gorgeous. And he admires her, how could someone not. She is strong and ambitious. It was more like lust, he thinks, lust and something else. When Geralt thinks about their relationship it doesn’t feel warm. It feels strong and constant, in a way, but Geralt thinks that might just be because of the Djinn. Then there’s Jaskier. The silly bard who saw through Geralt after only one day with him. Who makes him feel warm. Who makes Geralt do things he never usually would, like carry the sleeping man to bed. Who makes him feel warm when he thinks about him, who Geralt always knows will be there for him - constant and strong in a way all its own. Geralt wasn’t sure he knew what true love felt like and it scared him. But if he had to guess he would say that love was the one that made him smile.

“What are you smiling about, Geralt.” Eskel asked, startling Geralt. God he was fucking tired. He had assumed they would all be retired for the evening but they were all sitting around the table, even Vesemir, drinking some white gull.

“Leave the supplies here and get our guest in bed then come back down. We need to talk.” Geralt followed his orders, carefully setting the bags down and moving Jaskier so he could hold him with both arms.

“Mhh,” Jaksier whined as he was jostled around, “Ger.”

“Sleep, Jask,” Geralt looked up at his family to see three pairs of eyebrows raised at him, “What?”

“Nothing, just hurry back.” Vesemir cut off the others' words before they had a chance. 

Geralt had returned after a few minutes of arranging Jaskier in his bed, under all the blankets and furs Geralt could find. He tried telling him he would be back up soon (Jaskier probably didn’t understand him in his half conscious, sleep addled brain but Geralt didn’t want to leave him alone in the new, admittedly scary, place) before changing into cleaner clothes. Finally he set back off to his family and hopefully something to eat.

“So, Ger~ Was that your boyfriend?” Lambert asked, smirking at him over his glass. Boyfriend. That word made Geralt feel… weird inside. Warm. His stomach did a flip. It’s never done that before. Perhaps he was getting sick, or suffering extreme hunger… That had to be it, he never ate ‘enough’ on the path (no witcher did).

Geralt sat at the table, “He’s just a friend. Jaskier, the bard. I met him about ten years ago, remember?”

“Why is he here, pup?” Vesemir set a plate in front of Geralt along with a glass of wondrous alcohol. Geralt didn’t want to admit he was too worried to leave his friend after watching him almost die and not being able to do anything about it - the heart stopping panic he was so unused to became something Geralt would never forget. He watched Jaskier choke, blood spewing from his mouth, terrified. He was so scared and all he did was ask Geralt for help. And he couldn’t _do_ _anything._ It reminded him why he didn’t want to have friends, to not be vulnerable. It was also the reason he needed to make sure Jaskier knew he cared. The only way he knew how to really do that was to bring Jaskier home, somewhere Geralt knew he could keep him safe and become a real friend.

“Hm,” He really didn’t know what to say. “He wanted to come.”

Not a complete lie, Jaksier had been excited to come but Geralt was the one to ask him along and ensure the bard that he was not going to be imposing.

Vesemir crossed his arms, the other two put thier cups down, “And you just brought him here. Do you not remember the last time humans came to Kaer Morhen.”

Geralt sighed, taking a big drink of his own cup. “He’s fine.”

“He’s a BARD! Geralt! He’s going to write songs about us and spread it around the continent.” Lambert was already yelling. Geralt loved his brother but GODS he was too tired for this and way too sober. He downed the rest of his glass and glared at Lambert.

“He won't.”

“Geralt, I know he’s your friend but Lambert is right. He’s a bard, I’ve heard the songs, we can’t trust him with all the secrets here. It’s dangerous for us and him.” Eskel. Dammit he was supposed to be on Geralt's side. That was how it went, Eskel always had Geralt’s back when Lambert was being an ass or when Vesemir decided to impose his discipline. They were all looking at him like they expected him to break. Idiots. 

“No. I am not taking him back down the mountain.”

“Geralt, you know this is too dangerous.” Vesemir stood. He was getting angry. So was Geralt.

“NO! He is not! Honestly. Do none of you use your brain? You are scared of a colorful bard that you forget that I am the one who brought him? I have as much at risk as any of you,” Geralt crossed his arms, “The least you can do is wait and to meet him in the morning before you draw conclusions. And maybe consider trusting me.”

“Geralt, he may be a friend-”

“He is my best friend. He may be annoying and never listen and walk into danger any chance he gets but he is trustworthy and impossibly loyal. He knows how special an opportunity this is. He already assured nothing would be put into song without our approval. He insisted on it. Besides, he wants to write songs that spread the good word of witchers, not what we put in our potions and a map of the keep.”

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, everyone thinking on what had been said, Geralt stood to leave. He wanted to sleep. Vesemir nodded and stood with him.

“I hope to see you both at breakfast, Geralt. Tell Jaskier we look forward to meeting his acquaintance,” Vesemir made his way to the door, “And Geralt, I am happy for the two of you.”

“What? Ves, what do you mean? We’re just friends.” Geralt stood up and tried to yell after him down the hall. After giving up he turned back to his brothers who were both smirking at him.

“What?” He grunted

The other two laughed and shook their heads. 

“Listen, Geralt. We didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just, you know. He's going to be the first human to come here since… then. But he makes you happy.” Eskel stood up, squeezed Geralt's shoulder and left. 

“Yeah, and he’s pretty. I wouldn’t mind him warming my bed when the nights get cold.” Lambert laughed, running out of the room after Geralt growled at him. Geralt could hear him cackling down the hall.

***

Jaskier woke up covered in a mountain of furs and very warm. He sat up bolt right. He fell asleep in the woods… right? Was that a dream?

“Geralt?” He whispered. He wasn’t scarred. Not at all. He was used to waking up in places he couldn’t remember. Just not when he was with Gerlalt. Alone. In the woods. With no people around for miles. And miles… And miles. Okay, maybe he was a little concerned.

A grumble got his attention and he saw Geralt asleep on the floor next to him. Silly witcher. He always took the floor when there was only one bed unless Jaskier could talk sense into him. Jaskier thought they must be at Kaer Morhen, Geralt probably tried to wake him up and finish their trip last night. Only he slept all night so Geralt must have carried him all the way here. That thought made Jaskier smile, he couldn’t help it. It made him giggle a little, too.

God he was fucked.

Jaksier got out of bed and pulled a large fur over Geralt. It wasn’t often Jaskier was awake first, Geralt must have been tired from the hike.

“Hey,” Geralt grunted, sitting up.

“Good morning, dear. Did I wake you?” Jaskier settled on the floor next to Geralt, dragging down another fur for himself. The worry that had plagued him previously vanished as he watched Geralt stretch.

“Yes, but it’s time for breakfast. Put your shoes on.” Geralt stood and began to dress for the day. Jaskiers stomach grumbled as he jumped up to follow Geralt's example.

“So that was your room?” Jaskier asked as they walked down the hall. High ceilings and bare stones, no tapestries covered the walls. Only a few sparse windows that allowed a bright sun to light the hall and give view to the large mountain range.

“Yes, and you will meet everyone at breakfast.” Geralt led them down a long twisting staircase. Geralt had told him a little about everyone on their trip up the mountain in hopes of preparing him for meeting them and spending the winter together. 

“Oh? That’s exciting. Who all is here. Does my hair look good? Geralt! I am wearing dirty clothes! And I stink! This is not the first impression I wanted to make!” Jaskier ran after him, hands desperately flitting around his being to attempt to salvage his appearance. Meeting Geralt's family. It was exhilarating. 

“They already met you.”

“WHAT! No they haven’t,” Jaskier, after not getting any response from Geralt (not even a grunt!), grabbed Geralt’s arm and tugged, “Geralt. Tell me.”

“You were asleep but I had to drop off the bags. They were all there. You woke up, well not really. You just whined a little and fell back asleep.” Geralt was obviously enjoying Jaskiers distress that was manifested in red cheeks and a whiney voice.

“Geraaalt! How could you let that happen.” Jaskier hit Geralt’s chest as they entered the dining room. There's a large hall that used to fit all the witchers when the school was still running but now that there are only the four wolves they ate at a smaller table nearer to the kitchens. 

“Yeah, Geralt! How could you?” Lambert mocked in a painfully high voice. He was the only one down yet, the other two preparing breakfast.

“Oh! Geralt, you didn’t tell me gremlins lived here.” Jaskier sat down across the table from the man to be at face level with the witcher, “Hello. I am Jaskier. Who are you?” He made sure to speak slowly and pronounce every letter.

Lambert was speechless. Mouth agape, but somehow in his shock he still managed to look angry. It made Geralt laugh and Jaskier's heart fluttered at the deep sound. Jaskier vowed to make him laugh like that again, even if it had to be at Lambert's expense.

“Jaskier, this is my brother Lambert. Lambert, don’t be an ass.” Geralt sat down next to Jaskier.

“What happened to Lambert?” Eskel placed the pot of porridge on the table alone with a loaf of freshly baked bread.

“He met Jaskier,” Geralt smirked as he cut the bread and gave Jaskier a slice.

“Oh, hello, handsome. I’m Jaskier,” he stood and bowed before Geralt grabbed his pants and pulled him back down and lightly smacked his head, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Eskel. I would appreciate it if you didn't lie to my face, bard.” Eskels hand found its way to the grisly scar across his face, rubbing it gently.

“My dear, I do not jest about matters of great beauty. You look a lot like Geralt, actually.” Jaskiers honest eyes unnerved Eskel. Geralt just nodded and kept eating. He decided to move on.

“Hm. So what did you say to Lambert that has him so red and broody. Brooding is usually Geralt's thing.” Eskel sat next to Lambert and dished out bowls for everyone.

“HE CALLED ME A GREMLIN!” Lambert screeched. That had Eskel laughing, even Geralt chuckled. Vesemir entered, setting out a few jars of jam and sliced fruit preserves (probably in ungodly amounts of alcohol. Jaskier was prepared to eat them by the spoonful.) and sat at the head of the table.

“That is probably because you insist on acting like one.” Vesemir loaded his bowl with porridge. “You must be Jaskier. Welcome to Kaer Morhen. I am Vesemir. I see you have met all the pups.”

“The pups!” Jaskiers shit eating grin found Geralt, who was currently contemplating living in the woods for the rest of his life. It would be an easy switch. “Yes, they were delightful, Sir. It is a pleasure to meet the head of the family. I would just like to tell you that I am honored to be invited into your home for the winter. I already told Geralt that I won’t write anything that you don’t want to be shared… Well, no, actually I can’t promise that. I write a lot of songs, it’s my job, but I have plenty that I don’t perform for the masses. I can share with you all my songs and if there are any that you don’t want spread then you have my word that they will not.”

Vesemir nodded and offered him a bowl of food. The witchers watched as the young man overloaded his porridge with jam and cherry preserves. “Oh. Oh wow, this is amazing. Geralt, are you eating it plain? You are allowed joy, dearest. Here, you’ll like this.”

All eyes watched as Jaskier generously added honey into his bowl and then spread some berry jam to his bread.

“I know you like honey, I know it was you who ate all the honey buns I bought us at the harvest festival I played at. And this is possibly the best jam I have ever tasted. I don’t know how you haven’t eaten all of it already.” Jaskier looked up from his ministrations to scold Geralt’s grumblings, “Oh stop it. You know you like it.”

With that Jaskier returned to his meal, leaving behind speechless albeit amused witchers, and ate his fill. He ate a lot for one his size, he could almost compete with the appetite of a witcher. Probably due to the fact that he missed dinner the night before.

“So, Jaksier. How did you do on The Killer? I’m assuming Geralt didn’t carry you the entire way.” Eskel asked, serving himself seconds.

“The Killer? Geralt! What is he talking about?” Jaskier turned to look at Geralt, big eyes looking incredulously up at the man.

“That’s what the mountain trail is called.” He clarified. He watched as Jaskier blinked and then began to laugh.

“OH! The Killer! And you witchers say you’re not dramatic.”

“I’m not.” Geralt protested, setting his spoon down to glare at Jaskier, crossing his arms.

“Darling, you are perhaps the most dramatic man I have ever met. Aside from myself but that comes with the job.”

“Your dramatics have nothing to do with being a bard.” Geralt scoffed.

“Hey!” Jaskier scolded, pointing his finger in Geralt’s face, “Don’t be rude. Anyway, _The Killer_ is not a fitting name. I have been to taverns more perilous. I have never had to climb a mountain before so that was new and it is colder than I am used to, I usually head back to Oxenfurt for the winter where I teach the next generation of renowned troubadours. But I can’t imagine why you would call it a killer. I think _The Great Muddy And Incredibly Too Long Trail_ is a much more fitting name. It was fine but Geralt here has no patience and demanded we walk into the night and I may be used to walking but I am not used to going without my beauty sleep.” Jaskier gave Geralt a dirty look but he could see the amusement in his glittering eyes.

Vemeir watched as his pups bickered. Jaskier would be good for them, he decided.

* * *

Geralt had been spending the first two weeks helping with the maintenance of the keep and prepping for the first snowfall. Jaskier had been occupying his time in the large Library or with whoever was cooking in the kitchen. He said he was helping but Geralt knows Jaskier can’t cook to save his life and just wants to milk stories out of whoever he could.

Today, however, the occupants of Kaer Morhen were gathered in a large hall that has been emptied for years and replaced with training equipment. Jaskier was enjoying watching Geralt and Eskel sword fighting and listening to Vesemir’s advice and Lambert’s insults.

“Stay on your toes Eskel! And Geralt, watch your elbows!” Vesemir.

“You look like fucking ghouls trying to dance. Watch your footwork, idiots!” Lambert.

Jaskier just giggled and watched Geralt finally face a worthy opponent. Someone who could match his skill, speed, and strength. It was mesmerizing. Watching him spin, his hair flying around his head, leaping and twisting his sword. Seeing them clash. Watching Geralt change his sword from hand to hand in a blink of an eye to get the upper hand. To see him dodge and roll and attack with swift, harsh movements. It was so similar yet so different to how he fought monsters.

Soon Vesemir called an end to the match and left the wolves to work by themselves, excusing himself to prepare dinner. Jaskier was about to accompany him but Lambert shot out his hand and dragged Jaskier back to his place beside him.

“Not so fast, little bird. You’re gonna train too.” Jaskier gave Lambert a confused look, he didn’t think Lambert wanted to hear him practice his songs, “You do know how to fight, don't you? After so long on the path? Geralt?” Lambert turned to Geralt, getting a shrug in return. Lambert was speechless.

“Geralt!” Eskel scolded. “You let him on the path without being able to defend himself?”

“I am perfectly capable of defending myself!” Jaskier protested.

“Jask,” Geralt gave him a look that said “bullshit”.

“Okay, so I am capable of defending myself by outrunning whatever, or whoever, until Geralt can save me.” Jaskier crossed his arms in a challenge, “It’s our system! And it works.”

“We are teaching you how to fight,” Eskel decided. He walked over and dragged Jaskier to where he and Geralt had been fighting just a few minutes ago. 

“I do know how to fight. I have almost fourteen years of bar fights and town brawls under my belt. I even have a dagger that Geralt got me! I really don’t think I need to learn anything else. I have been fine for this long. Right, Geralt?”

The betrayal. Geralt shrugged and conceded to Eskel and Lambert, “You really should learn some more self defense. I’m not always with you. I am surprised you’ve made it this long, honestly.”

“GERALT!”

And that was the end of it. Jaskier stood across from Eskel, both armed with wooden swords, and Geralt beside him to help remind him of the steps they had already worked through. 

“Good, okay I am going to start slow. We will walk through the motions.” Eskel started moving ‘slowly’. Jaskier was too focused on his sword to keep track of his feet. Eskel easily struck Jaskier’s side when he stumbled.

“Damn,” Jaskier cursed before righting himself to start over. This happened a few times, Jaskier too focused on one aspect to remember to do the other.

“Here,” Geralt said after what felt like the twelve hundredth attempt. He stood behind Jaskier, just an inch away from being pressed up against his back, and brought his arms around him to hold his sword over Jaskiers hands. “You focus on your feet, but keep your eyes forward, and I will help you remember the arms.”

Jaskiers cleared his throat, face going warm, “uhm, yeah okay.”

Lambert and Eskel shared a look that Geralt was not fond of before they continued. They spent the rest of the afternoon training until Jaskier could no longer feel his arms.

* * *

It has been just over a month since Jaskier and Geralt arrived at Kaer Morhen, and a few weeks since the first snowfall. The days seemed to blend together, following the same routine. Breakfast followed by chores until lunch and then hours and hours of training or potion making or other witchery activities. Jaskier was lucky if he wasn’t invited to try and train with the witchers and get bruised black and blue. After training they would go to dinner and about once or twice a week they would visit the baths. After dinner was always Jaskier’s favorite time. Every night was a little different even if they just spent hours talking. Jaskier loved to watch Geralt interact with his family. How freely he laughs and smiles. He loves getting to know the others, finally feeling like a proper part of a family, being accepted and liked (maybe even loved).

Tonight was a game of Gwent. Lambert, Geralt, and Eskel had bets going. Jaskier didn’t know how to play so he would dance around and sing (mostly for Vesemir's entertainment as he sat with his preferred glass of wine and watched his pups play) taking a break every now and then to steal a sip from Geralt's cup while he is too focused to growl at him (and maybe whisper the cards that his brothers had in their hands into his ear). His brothers didn’t seem to take notice though, too focused on watching him steal Geralt's alcohol as he draped across the man's broad shoulders. 

Eventually the night turned from games to the youngest members of the keep drinking and talking, Vesemir long gone, probably to read somewhere quieter.

“All I’m saying is that there is no way you fucked a princess.” Lambert slurred.

“I did. I did, right Geral'? She was sooo pretty. Pretty hair, not as pretty as yours though.” Geralt swung his arm out to (not so) gently shove Jaskier, “Ow! Anyyyway. She was sooo lovely. Lovely lady Lion, no. Lain, Looo- Line. Lien? LIEN! Yes. I sed- seducted her and she said I was very good.” Jaskier had indulged in perhaps too much alcohol in his attempts to keep up with the witchers. Not the first time he had made this mistake and unlikely to be the last.

“You sleep with too many people. Too many bread boxes in your sausage… Hm,” Geralt pouted, trying to figure out why that didn’t sound quite right.

“Awe, is Gery-poo jealous?” Eskel cooed, leading forward and almost falling out of his chair.

“No!” Geralt shouted, sounding just a little too nervous, “I just don’t like it,” He grumbled. Or he thought he did. He couldn’t tell how loud he was being.

“GERALT’S JEALOUS!” Lambert shouted. 

“AM NOT!” Geralt growled. Lambert and Eskel kept shouting until Geralt lunged at them, wrestling them to the ground. Geralt desperately trying to get his brothers to stop their teasing even in his drunken state, ignorant to the fact that Jaskier had passed out in his chair as soon as he had finished his story.

* * *

Jaksier had been sleeping in Geralt's bed more often as the nights got colder. The stone walls did little to keep the rooms warm and the fire would go out at night leaving it crisp and cool in the morning. He especially hated having to walk on the frigid floors first thing in the morning. Jaskier had moved all the warm furs from his room to Geralt’s already and had a few pairs of night clothes stored in Geralt’s dresser. It was just better to sleep with a big, giant heater of a man.

He did try and stay in his room for everything else. He didn’t want to intrude on Geralt’s space, after traveling together every year it’s nice to have a little space of your own. It provides a well needed respite from each other's constant presence. Even if it was difficult to fall asleep without the familiar sound of his sleeping (or meditating) companion. It left Jaskier feeling vulnerable. Just a little more uneasy than usual, even though they were in the confines of the mighty castle in the mountains with four witchers ready to come to his aid if he screamed. 

Jaskier was growing to like the chilly winter weather. 

Jaskier had convinced Vesemir (he, himself, was still unsure of how he managed to do that) to bring up one of the old mirrors - only minor cracks across the glass - to his room. It was just large enough to be considered full length. Jaskier did not have many outfits to put together, the clothes he wore for the freezing weather were mostly from storage. Old clothes from all the young witchers that had once wandered the halls of Kaer Morhen.

It was early, early for Jaskier at least. The sun was well risen and the witchers would be well into their morning chores so Jaksier would have to eat alone or take breakfast as a picnic to wherever one of the pups were working. Geralt’s side of the bed was already cold. He shuffled down the hall to his room and mourned the warmth as his toes turned pink. Once he arrived at his room Jaskier pulled out his favorite pants (and the warmest socks he had). They were a delightful grey color that had a slight blue hue to them and tied up his waist in the front. They showed off his thighs and ass delightfully without hugging too tightly. 

Jaskier was slipping his shirt on when he noticed them. The light stretch marks crawling up his hips. He can see the extra fullness of his stomach. He knew he was putting on weight, he always did in the winter, but he had never gotten stretch marks before. He tucked his shirt into his pants and laced them up. You couldn’t really tell anything has changed, the baggy shirt and laceable waist allowed for a more generous fit. Jaskier wasn’t sure if his usual clothes would fit come spring. He would have to start training with the witchers more, and perhaps eating less, if for no other reason than to fit into his own clothes.

After one last look in the mirror Jaskier made his way down to the library. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

* * *

“Jaskier are you completely incapable of making any rational decisions? You are a… a nincompoop!” Geralt yelled, voice echoing through the keep, booming down the halls.

“Nincompoop! Really, Geralt? That’s your go to?” Jaskier’s raucous voice responded. 

This is not the first fight the pair had gotten into that winter. They have plenty of them, in fact. The pair had an uncanny knack of finding things to argue about and, as the nature of the two, it turned into yelling and never fails to end in some entertaining dramatics. They also never fail to draw a crowd of curious witchers eager for the theatrical display.

“What do you think he did this time?” Eskel whispered to Lambert who had just joined him at the side of the room.

“I think he ate something from the stores that he didn’t recognize. Perfectly edible but Geralt is still upset that he just sampled it so freely when he could have grabbed something that should only be eaten by witchers, I’m not even sure of anything like that is kept in the stores. All the potions and ingredients are kept in the labs, but you know how he is.”

“Geralt, you do not need to be such a worry wart! Honestly why is this such a big deal?” Jaksier was clearly annoyed. Geralt had been overly vigilant as of late. Any little thing Jaskier did was at risk of sparking Geralt’s… protectiveness. Even things that he used to do all the time in the past, like running around less than safe terrain (the crumbling halls and stairs of Kaer Morhen, at the moment) or investigating (and sometimes tasting) things that he was curious about. As sweet as this new(ish) behavior was it was also incredibly irritating. 

“Because I love you, idiot! I don’t want you to get hurt anymore and I can’t stand that you don’t care. It scares me.” His voice was practically a whisper by the end of his confession. Jaskier was only able to hear him due to their close proximity. Eskel and Lambert happily listened with their enhanced hearing. This had to be one of the most entertaining arguments yet.

“Oh… like. Like love me as- as a friend? Or um… well…” Jaskier cleared his throat, he wanted to ask if he loved him like he loved Yennefer but that was impossible. Geralt _loves_ Yennefer, in a way he couldn't love anyone else.

“No. Yes. Fuck,” Geralt slumped, hands rubbing his face. He didn’t know how to do this, “I don't know what… what true love feels like. I think it should feel better than what it feels like with anyone else, like Yen, she doesn't make me smile like you do. I think this is it. You. I don’t know how to find the words, Jask. Just that I don’t want to lose you, I don’t want to see you hurt. All I want is to keep you safe and smiling and I want to love you. I don’t know how.”

They were both in shock. Geralt was trembling, only slightly. He had never been so nervous and unsure in his life. It was one thing to know how he felt, to start to realize it, it’s another thing entirely to tell his best friend and probably his true love how he feels and risk losing it all just because he can’t seem to act like himself around Jaskier. Or he acts too much like himself, he’s lost all his sense and self control. It was terrifying. 

“I love you too, you utter buffoon. I have loved you for so long I have forgotten what it is to not be,” Jaskier stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on Geralt’s cheek, just so he could hold him. He could feel the slight tremors running through the larger man. “There’s no need to worry, my love. We will figure this out. We always do. And this is hardly a terrible thing to figure out. Together, right, my witcher?”

Geralt answered with a kiss, tender and pure - full of only adoration. It was like coming home. A kiss no poem or song could ever capture, not that Jaskier wouldn’t try. Nothing Geralt had ever done before had felt so right. This is what love feels like, he thinks. Like coming home. Like yelling your fool head off over the stupidest things and not being able to control yourself like you should. Like smiling and laughing even when everything is scary, or sad, or stressful or all of the above. Like warmth and friendship and perfectly, ruthlessly constant. Like always choosing each other, not because of destiny or need but of pure desire to be with each other. Like understanding the other more than you know yourself. Like silly miscommunications because your love makes you a little too blind but always being able to make up because you can’t truly be mad and to see them upset kills you a little inside. Like wanting to fight anyone - anything - that could be harmful (even if it’s each other). It feels like spinning with the earth but standing completely still.

Like feeling helpless but utterly complete.

“Ger, as much as I would love to continue this, it is nearing dinner and I think it would be best to save this for… after?” Jaskier pulled away, taking hold of Geralt’s hands to keep them from wandering around his body too much. He wasn’t ready to have Geralt know him like this. He wasn’t at his peak, he knew, and he just wanted to be what Geralt wanted, to be the slim, sexy bard Geralt had come to know over the years, not the plump man who lazed about the keep all winter. Not when Geralt was… well when he looked like _that,_ like anything Jaskier could ever want. Need _._

Geralt stopped, he didn’t want to push Jaskier and they had just confessed their _love_ , for Melitele's sake. The last thing he wanted was to push Jaskier to have sex or anything of the sort. He knew he wasn't the most appealing and if Jaskier wasn’t ready Geralt was happy to wait. He would never have sex again if it meant Jaskier was happy, and his. Plus he was getting hungry and Jaskier made sense, they would have more time later. Geralt wanted to take his time with Jaskier, to do it right. To treat him right. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

“We can just… take it slow. I think I’m still in shock.”

With that they headed to dinner.

* * * 

Geralt noticed Jaskier all the time. He could be fighting three bruxa _and_ a basilisk and he would still notice Jaskier. It wasn’t a new development. Geralt had been hypnotized by Jaskier's presence much longer than he would like to admit and now that he was aware how absolutely infatuated with him he is (and Jaskier returned his affections) it only got worse. He couldn’t focus on anything other than the angel that was his lover, dancing around and lighting every room he walked into like he’s the sun. It was distracting in the best of ways.

“You look like a lovestruck fool,” Lambert shoved Geralt’s arm. They were meant to be repairing the cracked windows around the keep. Eskel was out with the horses, and ‘lil Bleater, letting them out of the stables for an hour while he cleaned them. Jaskier had snagged Geralt’s cloak, it was a little large for him, tailing in the snow as he danced around the horses singing. His melodic voice drifting in through the empty window frame. Geralt had, unintentionally, slumped against the sill to watch Jaskier. He reminded Geralt of a nymph. “Geralt!”

“Hm?” Geralt shook his head as he roused from his daze. Jaskier was truly enchanting. And he was in love with Geralt. It still made his stomach do little flips, as it turns out Geralt had been getting sick. Helplessly lovesick, worse than a fool. But he was okay with it. 

“You’re like a fucking puppy. Disgusting.” Lambert passed Geralt the window and they began to replace the glass pane.

“You’re just jealous that you aren’t sleeping with him.” Geralt retorted. Lambert raised his eyebrows.

“Neither are you. I would have thought you guys to be all over each other but,” he shrugged, “Nothing. Night time is just as quiet as always.” Lambert chuckled. 

“Fuck off.” Geralt didn’t want to admit that Lambert was right. They had not found a time for it. Or, rather, when they did find a time there was always a reason not to. For Jaskier, at least. “... Do you think he doesn’t want to fuck me?”

Lambert stopped what he was doing and looked at Geralt, “Listen, pretty boy. We can all tell that he is just as ass over tits for you as you are for him. I don’t know why you two haven’t fucked yet but I can’t help. Ask Eskel, he probably has some idea. Or better yet! Ask the lark. I’m sure it’s not what you think.”

They worked until lunch. Setting most of the windows on the main floor before heading down to eat with the rest of the family. Lunch was a normal affair, some bread, meat, and cheese (and fruit but that was mostly for Jaksier because “one cannot maintain such healthy skin with just bread and meat, you barbarians! I require variety, a balanced diet!” and something about Oxenfurt studies but no one could really follow him after that). 

Jaskier waltzed in, face flush from the cold air leaving his cheeks and nose an adorable pink. He sat next to Geralt, cuddling in close for warmth. He wasted no time in engaging everyone in the tale of his morning activities. Geralt was content to listen to him babble on about anything. He tried to listen, he has been for a while. He tried but Jaskier was just too godsdamned FUCKING distracting. The way his nimble fingers picked apart the bread and how his pink lips looked as he bit into the sweet fruit, or how his soft tongue licks his long fingers clean after he finished his bite. Geralt was not getting hard from watching him eat. He was _not._

“That was delicious, Vesemir!” Jaskier thanked the older man as he stood, “I am absolutely stuffed!”

Geralt thought that was odd because Jaskier usually tried a little of everything but he hadn’t even looked at the peach preserves. Jaskier loves peaches. He had been doing that for the past few days. It was starting to worry Geralt. Maybe he was getting sick.

“Well, why don’t we go to the training room. You three probably have some restless energy to use up and I am getting better with that sword thing,” Jaskier made a little funny flourish in a sad mimicry of the sword movements he had been learning.

Geralt thought that was really odd. Jaskier was much more keen on using this afternoon to compose and practice or enjoy some other activity he had discovered than training. Geralt wouldn’t complain about spending time with him. His brothers may, given his track record for distraction as of late.

“Hey, Jask,” Geralt pulled him back on their walk to the training room. He wanted to make sure he was doing okay.

“Geralt, my love!” Jaksier swung his arms around him and gave him a kiss. Geralt pulled him in and kissed him some more. He let himself bathe in the happiness of Jaskier’s smile, the glitter in his eye as he giggled and tried to pull Geralt to the training room.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re not getting sick, right?” Geralt whispered. He didn’t want his brothers to hear. “You haven’t been eating as much.”

The surprise on Jaskier’s face was only there for a moment before a shy, uncertain, smile took over. He wouldn’t meet Geralt’s gaze.

“No, dear. I’m perfectly fine. Just my appetite closing form so long off the path, you know.” Jaskier perked back up and kissed Geralt, “You are very sweet, Dearheart. Now let's go have some fun, your brothers are probably wondering where we’ve gone off to.”

Geralt pulled him back, pushing his face against the bard's long neck, kissing down to his shirt collar and then back up to his ear, “Or we could go back to my room and have some fun up there.”

Jaskier giggled but pulled away, leaving one last kiss on Geralt’s lips before pulling him along, “Maybe tonight, Ger. I really would love to train with you and your brothers. C’mon.”

He continued like this all week. Geralt noticed.

* * *

They were finally alone. It had been almost a week and all they had been able to do was kiss a little, Jaksier had seemed so unsure whenever Geralt tried to move anything further. Geralt was desperate. He craved Jaskier like he was starving and Jaskier a feast. Not even his pull to Yennefer could compare. It was maddening.

It was early into the night, everyone had retired early, much to Geralt's relief. He took Jaksier’s hand up and led him up to his room. He kissed Jaskier’s cheek, lips trailing down his jaw. Geralt nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, enjoying the strong scent of _Jaskier_ that enveloped him.

“Hmm. Love you. Need you, Jask.” Geralt nipped at the soft skin under Jaskier’s ear. His hands gripped his waist and pulled him close. He loved it. Having him against him. Jaskier’s hands pulled at his hair, eliciting a small growl of approval from Geralt. He brought his lips back to Jaskiers, letting his tongue taste his smooth lips before slipping in to explore his mouth. Tongues twisting around each other. Before long his hands had found Jaskiers buttons, pulling them open as quickly as he could without pulling back from Jaskier.

“Um, Geralt,” Jaskier pulled back a little. Geralt looked up at him, worried by the unsure tone of his voice. Jaskier wouldn’t meet his gaze, a bright pink flush on his cheeks. Whether from their activities or his sudden bashfulness Geralt couldn’t tell. 

Geralt didn’t understand Jaskier’s recent shyness. He had seen him naked before, many times. Jaksier knew Geralt had an idea of what he looked like. Slim with some muscle. Very fetching if he may say so himself. But they have been in Kaer Morhen for a while and the food was delicious and plentiful, and well, with the lack of traveling to keep Jaskier slim he had gained some weight. Just a little extra on his stomach and hips. He knew that Geralt was still as toned and fit as when they arrived. Still muscled like a god. Jaskier wasn’t one to be embarrassed about his appearance, he had almost an alarming amount of self confidence, but now he was sure Geralt would find him unbecoming, especially because he knows what Jaskier usually looks like. It was silly, he knows, but next to an adonis like Geralt it was hard to feel sexy. He had never put on this much weight before (perhaps it was age catching up to him, and oh god, what a thought that was. Surely he wasn’t that old. It certainly did not help Jaskier get in the mood).

“You do not wish to have sex with me?” Geralt stepped back hoping it would help put Jaskier at ease.

“NO! Gods no, Geralt. I’ve wanted to have you for years. It’s just… um,” Jaskier looked down again, focusing on his toes. His arms wrapped around himself. He didn’t know how to say this, he was embarrassed that he was embarrassed. What a mess, he thought, finally getting the man he wanted after so long and not being able to go through with it because of a few stretch marks? He had no problem with stretch marks, he enjoyed plenty of lovers with them. They added an aspect of reality, personality, to his trysts. He loved to write poems about the perfect imperfections of his lovers. But he couldn’t feel confident about it now. Not in the face of the only man he truly wanted to please. He wanted to be perfect for his perfect witcher. 

“You don’t have to tell me. We don’t have to do anything. I am happy to just hold you.” Geralt had never sounded so gentle. Jaskier’s heart burst with affection. He wanted to tell him everything.

“I just don’t want to disappoint you, Geralt. I’m not,” Jaksier waved an arm, gesturing to the mountain of muscle that stood before him, “Well, you know. I don’t look like you.”

“Yes, I have seen you before, Jaskier. You’re handsome and very attractively not a witcher,” Geralt chuckled. He allowed himself to come closer to Jaskier, slowly pulling him against him again. “I think you are the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“No, Geralt. I know you’ve seen me before but I… I got fat!” Jaskier pulled away, hugging himself again. 

“Jaskier, my lark,” Geralt hugged him, holding him softly against his chest. “I love your body.”

Geralt started his kisses on the top of Jaskier’s head, then down his cheek. Geralt peppered his jaw and neck with kisses. His arms slid down to Jaskier’s hips, slipping up under his soft chemise. His large, rough hands gripping the supple skin of Jaskier’s love handles. Geralt pulled Jaskier closer to him, face once again nuzzled under his ear.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, arms gripping Geralt's biceps. He loved this man. How he made him feel like he was walking on air was beyond even his poetic mind.

“I love your body. So soft, perfect for me to hold. Soft and delicate,” His hands moved from hips to his firm bum, “Still so strong. Perfect.”

Geralt pulled back, pulling his shirt off before reaching to take Jaskier’s off. “May I?”

Jaskier nodded, letting Geralt take charge, letting him shower him with affection and reassurances. Geralt slid off his doublet and set it aside before untying and throwing off the chemise that hid Jaskier’s glorious chest. His eyes wondered the delightful sight of warm, flushed skin covered in a lovely coating of curly chest hair. Geralt let his fingers rake through the curls, down to his soft midsection. His hands went back to their spot on Jaskier’s hips.

Jaskier gasped when Geralt fell to his knees and began to press gentle kisses over his squishy middle. Soft little pecks turned into open mouth kisses with warm tongue and more than a little sucking. The little pink marks were soon joined by little nips from Geralt’s teeth. Jaskier giggled. He couldn’t help it. The tickley feeling along with the overwhelming love that filled him had to get out somehow. Little prickles of tears in Jaskier’s eyes drew Geralt back up to hold the smaller man’s face and peer into his ocean eyes.

“You really like it?” Jaskier whispered. Eyes flitting about Geralt's face, not able to maintain the eye contact that Geralt seemed so intent on having. Geralt took a moment to look at the man in his arms. He let his fingers trace shapes on Jaskier’s cheek before holding his face to look right into his eyes.

“Look at me, please,” he waited for Jaskier to look up, gold meeting sapphire, “Do you like my scars?”

“God yes!” Jaskier was confused but gratefully accepted the topic change. “They are proof that you have lived, Geralt. They tell a story, like paint on a canvas, they paint your story across your skin. They made you, you, Geralt. And I love you. You are the most handsome man I have ever seen.”

“Hm,” Geralt smirked. He let one of his hands come to touch the claw marks across his ribs as the other went down to gently brush against the light stretch marks that had appeared on his hips with the light pudginess of fat. “I feel the same about these,” Geralt pinched Jaskiers hip, chuckling at the squeak Jaskier made, “I like knowing you’re taken care of. You look so healthy and handsome. My healthy, handsome, little songbird.”

Geralt continued worshipping Jaskier’s body. No more delays. Just glorious sex. 

Geralt had never been one to refer to sex as “making love” but when Jaskier told him he was going to write the most amazing song about “making love to the White Wolf” he couldn’t find an argument to combat the phrase. Even if he could he wouldn’t. He was enjoying his afterglow with his lover tucked against him, happy.

Geralt knows what love feels like. It feels warm and constant and it makes your stomach flip and your face warm. And it makes you do things that you never would before, it makes you paranoid, and stupid, and soft. It’s more than understanding and it’s so much more than sex. It's making love. But more than any of that it makes you smile.

Geralt knows what love feels like. It feels like Jaskier.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Add Kudos and comments!  
> might edit in some smut someday if you guys would like that!


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